Brorskap
by imgonnaleaveyou
Summary: Brorskap Brotherhood : In the time since Loki's sentencing and incarceration, Thor has been struggling to fill his days and nights so as not to drown in memories and thoughts of his younger brother. In a moment of weakness, he decides to seek Loki out, to pay him a visit. First chapter, will continue if it is well-received. This will be T/L slash. Will contain other Avengers.
1. Chapter 1

Some evenings, Thor was able to forget that Loki had ever been.

While his ascension to Asgard's throne was indefinitely postponed, the God of Thunder found himself to be King in all but formal title following the sentencing of the war criminal Loki. Perhaps testing him, perhaps distracting him, or perhaps both, Odin provided Thor with a barrage of duties daily. The hurdles set before him ranged in nature from manual to political, and they were seemingly never-ending. He took their bait, throwing himself into the work with determination and gratitude for the occupation of a mind that was tormented when allowed to idle.

Come nightfall, the kingdom provided plenty of diversions to anyone who sought them, and Odin's heir accepted what was on offer – a fight, a flask, a frenzied tumble in unfamiliar bedchambers, or all three at once. Busying his every waking moment until he fell into black slumber helped to keep still an overactive imagination. As time had passed, distancing him from the melee on Midgard and the horror of Loki's trial in the days following their return, Thor had even found some occasional success at being alone in his bed while the kingdom slept and pretending that he had never been a brother to anyone at all.

Some evenings, he fooled himself. Some evenings, he was the only son of the Allfather. Some evenings, nothing raven-haired and rose-lipped had ever slept beneath his arm on childhood hunts, clutched his hand in a darkened wood, danced with him at banquets, murmured secrets into his ear, tried to end him atop Stark Tower. Some evenings, he could detach himself entirely from all that Loki had ever been, all that he was and was not now, what might become of him in the years to follow. Some evenings, Thor felt nothing.

This was no such night.

It was a familiar compulsion: A nameless, faceless tongue of his own making tickled Thor's ear and told him to go to the black towers. Hidden away from the splendor and brilliance, hidden from view of even the stars, they were Asgard's ugliest truth, jutting crookedly from the depths of a frigid moat. The structures resembled a row of jagged teeth, moss-covered and windowless. As children, Loki had once insisted they take a horse and ride to see the towers, and they had stood at the edge of the water, gazing on them with morbid fascination.

"_Take my hand, I'm frightened!" Loki reached for Thor, gripping three of his brother's fingers against his own palm._

"_I'm not." Thor squeezed his younger brother's hand, puffing out his chest. "And you should not be frightened, either. We are princes of Asgard. And we have done no wrong."_

"_If you are very wicked," Loki whispered, "Father sends you here to be tortured."_

Thor sat up in his bed and pressed the heels of his hands against the sockets of his eyes, his brow furrowed. The clarity of his memories tonight was crippling, and the irony of this particular recollection was not lost on him. Loki had been very wicked. And Odin had sent him to the towers to be tortured.

Standing stoic at his trial, his brother muzzled and staring at the floor, Thor had still harbored a red and righteous anger. He had believed at his core that Loki deserved to be punished. But when the sentence had been spoken aloud, neither he nor Loki had been prepared for its severity. No commonplace misdeeds and trivialities were punishable by time spent in captivity there; warriors committed to the clutches of those towers were legendary evil.

Thor knew, even now, that days of torture stacked on end, nights providing no reprieve, could reduce man to animal in far less time than Loki had already passed in those towers. He knew that if he stood from the bed and reached for his clothes, his cape, all the days and nights he had spent resisting the urge to do this very thing would be lost. He knew he would be seen by Heimdall and Odin would inevitably find out that he had gone to Loki's side.

"_You know there is a chance that even the Mighty Thor is unprepared for what will be found there." _ So many nights before, that last actuality had been the one to stop him, to force his head back to the pillow and put this madness to rest, but not tonight. Tonight, it was too late. He was on his feet and in his clothes, striding through the corridor holding Mjolnir, by the time it drifted into his mind.

A nameless horse beneath him, one whose absence no one would question, Thor ran the beast hard over the blue moonscape of the sleeping Asgardian countryside. The wind tangled his own mane and that of the barebacked creature he rode, brisk and cool against his face. As he ascended into the hills, the strength of the gusting increased to such a force that Thor wondered if some higher power weren't trying to send him back into the city.

The terrain grew steep as he drew nearer to his destination, became less favorable, less passable, the grass giving way to gravel that slid beneath his steed's hooves. The glory of Asgard loomed behind them in slumber as Thor negotiated his ascent, and he could smell the clay in the moat now, deep and unforgivingly cold. Torches rose up, tall and spindly, from the water surrounding the towers to illuminate them, and a flood of nausea rolled through Thor when he dismounted and looked on them properly for the first time in years. What must Loki have been thinking upon seeing them again? His own voice was strained in his ears as he murmured the words aloud to a brother who surely could not hear him, "How have we come to this?"

Unsure of whether to expect a welcome or a battle, he made no attempts at disguising himself from the armed guards manning the drawbridge. If Odin had given them orders to send him away, Thor would fight them and they would lose.

"Who goes there?" one of the men shouted into the night. By the flicker of torchlight, Thor could barely make out his face.

"Thor Odinson goes here. Let down the bridge; I wish to see my brother."

It seemed Odin had given no orders prohibiting Thor from visiting Loki. The heavy wooden bridge creaked as it dropped through the darkness and shuddered to a stop against the bank. Tethering the horse to a dead tree, Thor crossed in broad strides.

"You will find him on the second floor." The burly redheaded guard's brow was furrowed as the prince approached him, undoubtedly concerned about the purpose of this visit and to whom Thor pledged his allegiance. "We have only obeyed the king's orders, sir."

Pausing beside him, the God of Thunder lifted his hand to the guard's shoulder. The man flinched as though preparing for a painful impact, then relaxing when Thor only gave him a gentle squeeze, reassuring him:

"I was present when they were given. I mean you no harm."

The stairs were stone, broad and flat, and the way was lit by candles in alcoves on either side. Thor had never passed through these halls before, did not know what to expect from the tower's interior. It was not as formidable as the exterior; the stones were clean, the walls dark but pleasant enough. And yet, it was very cold. He could smell the sweat and fear of its inhabitants, could smell a mingled tang of blood and urine. Somewhere, high in the tower on a distant level, a man was weeping. The hollow choking sound of his sobs echoed through the stairwell.

"Kill me, I beg of you," came an unfamiliar voice that matched the crying. "Let there be an end."

Thor made a tight line of his lips as he wondered whether the men stationed here had broken Loki. Had his brother ever cried these tears of hopeless despair? Had he been made to plead for mercy, to wish for death? Did he not deserve it, if he had?

There were three heavy wooden doors off the second story landing. Of the three, only one had been appointed sentinels, and Thor knew at once that this was the door containing the God of Mischief. Both posted men bowed in acknowledgment of the prince's presence, and Thor mirrored the gesture. In their expressions, he read the same wariness he'd seen in the eyes of the man downstairs.

"Brothers, let me pass. You need fear no vengeance."

No further persuasion proved necessary. The men opened the door to Loki's chamber and, like a programmed machine, Thor stepped numbly over the threshold. Behind him, the lock's latch clicked into place as the door was shut once more. For what felt like an eternity, his blue gaze remained rooted on his boots, and he was incapable of looking for the dread of what he might see.

"Grant me strength," he breathed, words barely audible even to his own ears, and he lifted his head at last to look upon his younger brother. In an instant, Thor was awash in memory and struggling to stay upright.

"_Look at me, Thor!" Chin tucked to his chest, hair damp from swimming, Loki swung from an outstretched branch, having climbed up dizzyingly high in nothing but his undershorts and worked his way out onto the limb, small pink hands gripping it tight, legs dangling in the breeze. Thor stood in the long grass below and smiled with a mixture of fear and wonder, hand shading his eyes from the sun. _

"_Come down from there, you little fool!" he called, up into the golden afternoon air._

"_I can go higher than this!" Loki was smiling, the black fringe of his eyelashes fanned out across alabaster cheeks as he struggled to see his older brother down on the ground. "You look no bigger than my toe!"_

"_The higher you climb, the further you'll fall!"_

"The further you'll fall," he whispered those final words into the present-day gloom, echoing with his child-self.

Arms over his head, chin to his chest, hanging well above the ground in his underclothes, inky curls damp where they rested against his forehead and his face, the adult Loki's current positioning was a cruel mimicry of the boy Loki's giddy swinging in Thor's memory. Steel cuffs had rubbed and cut his wrists raw, the blood there blackened, fresh claret running rivulets down his diminished arms to pool in the hollows of his collarbone and the base of his throat. His ribs were countable one by one, brow furrowed and eyes closed, legs hanging slack. The bones in his hips jutted prominently against his skin, the muslin underpants he wore all but transparent thanks to cold sweat.

There was no glow about Loki, no warmth, no strength; Odin had taken his power from him and it was visibly clear that it had not been restored. This hanging mortal man was a mere shadow of the prideful villain who had brought such destruction upon Midgard, and Thor could not begin to reconcile what he saw before him with the vibrance and beauty of the brother he had always loved so well.

_No one deserves this,_ Thor thought, swallowing hard over the knot in his throat, struggling to breathe past it. So many nights, he had lain awake wondering how Loki was faring, convincing himself he deserved to be punished, needed to be humiliated and tormented to show him the error of his ways. Even now, standing faced with the concrete reality, Thor knew there were many Midgardians mourning brothers, sons, wives, mothers thanks to Loki's madness.

But had The Other not orchestrated that? How much fault could be attributed to Kept in this windowless cage, bruised and lashed and cut into, sleeping while he hung like meat on a hook, his muscles wasted and leaving him gaunt, stretched thin, ruined. It was difficult for Thor to see justice in this any longer. It was difficult for him to see anything at all, apart from what he could do to make things immediately better for the brother he still loved, after all.

Loki smelled awful, like sick and sweat and blood, but Thor cared nothing of it. Stepping in on shaking legs, face wet with tears, he put his arms carefully around the damp and sticky body he had embraced so many times, lifting just marginally, just enough to take the weight from Loki's wrists. The prisoner jolted awake as his limbs shifted, sucking in a haggard breath and going wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what was being done to him next.

"Fear nothing, Loki. It is only me." Thor looked up into the other man's face, into oceanic eyes swimming with confusion and self-doubt while tears gathered there, as rife with conflict as they had ever been.

"I have had this dream before and it is never real." Loki's words were hoarse whispers from a parched throat, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Go away. Leave me."

"It is real, Loki. I am as real as you are." Thor kissed his brother's cheek, allowing the younger prince to feel the warmth of his breath, the evidence of his truth. The rigid resistance left Loki then, and he collapsed for that moment into the much larger man's embrace, choking on a series of short, pained sobs and dropping his head to Thor's shoulder, limp with heartbroken relief.

But the keepers of the tower had not broken his spirit entirely; only seconds later, the stunned crying gave way to a snarl and Loki attempted to twist his body away from Thor's arms, lashed out at him with bare feet and tried to kick him.

"Let go of me! I need nothing of your pity! Get out!"

It was a pathetic display. Weak by even human standards, his efforts were certain futile when matched against the strength of Asgard's heir, and Thor kept hold of him carefully, not wanting to release him to sway again by mangled wrists.

"Be still!" Voice raised, Thor clutched him more tightly. "You are wounded, you'll make it worse."

"Have you come to gloat?" Eyes jittering, pale, Loki gave up the fight; he had nothing left in him to fight with. It was evident that his head was spinning, his equilibrium in poor practice from lack of use.

_Hands at his hips, the child prince Loki Odinson stood facing the trunk of an ancient tree, breathing hard and bleeding from his knuckles in the wake of a sparring match with his older brother before the court at the Winternights festival. Dignified even in his early years, he wept but took care not to let anyone see. Thor knew, of course, and cared that his brother was distraught. He approached and wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze._

"_What are you doing here?" Loki hastily wiped at his face and stepped to the side, away from the affection. "Have you come to gloat?"_

"_No. I only wanted to impress Father. Fight me again and you will surely win. Of course I haven't come to gloat."_

"Of course I haven't come to gloat."

"Then what? Why now, after all this time? To look upon me, to comfort yourself by seeing that I am alive?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps to comfort you, as well."

"There is no comfort for me, Thor. Do you feel better now, seeing me this way? If you want to comfort me, put your hands to my throat and squeeze hard." Loki spat the words past his teeth, eyes alive with self-hatred, with misery. "And if you haven't the courage to do that, then you have already looked upon me. Leave."

"I will not." Thor could no longer bear the intensity of his brother's gaze, and he was not prepared to weather the impassioned desire to die burning there. Instead, he pressed his whiskered cheek to a smooth one, keeping that guttingly slight body flush against his own. Perhaps in surrender of his pride, perhaps in relief, Loki yielded his struggle altogether and allowed himself to be boneless, weightless, while Thor held him. "I will not kill you. And I will not leave you."

There was a long silence, stretching on between them and filled only with their breathing. Thor knew not which words to say, and so said nothing. It was Loki who finally broke the quiet with a murmur: "Then what will you do?"

"I do not know."


	2. Chapter 2

The plan came to Thor after Loki had surrendered his consciousness, drifting silently away from the prison and into the arms of darkness, all his emaciated limbs free of tension and his head lolling against Thor's shoulder.

"Are you sleeping?"

_Even as he whispered it, he already knew the answer. The inkcloud of Loki's hair was a fan that framed his face, spread across the pillow's case. On his side, weight propped on one elbow, Thor stared at his younger brother, watching him dream. In sleep, Loki smiled and his fingers twitched where they rested against the quilt. He was no longer a baby, but just barely a boy; his knuckles were still dimpled and his cheeks were still round. In the darkness beyond the bedside candle's warmth, Thor felt their father's presence before he saw or heard him._

"_Are you protecting him?" Odin's voice was powerful even when it was quiet._

"_Yes." Thor smiled. He was not such a very big thing, himself; he liked the idea of there being someone smaller, someone in need of his protection._

"_Are you going to bed, or are you going to protect him all night?"_

"_I'm going to protect him always."_

It was no carefully calculated strategy for permanent escape and evasion, and not all its pieces were penciled in, but leaving Loki here alone was not an option. And this time, for this journey, they would not have the benefit of his magic. By the state of his mortal body, Thor guessed that even to walk would be beyond his brother, much less to run while the posted guards gave chase. Thor could not expect him to assist in any way, but for the first crude leg of this voyage, he would need no assistance from Loki. Cooperation would be enough.

Keeping his brother's body secured to his own with one arm round his middle, Thor reached upward, up above the tight cuffs securing Loki's wrists. The chain links were thick and strong, far too strong for even a particularly powerful mortal man to break, but Thor was still a god. Gritting his teeth and growling with the strain of it, he gripped the chain and yanked until it was uprooted from the concrete ceiling, its fastenings clattering to the floor at the centre of the cell in a rain of rubble.

Loki woke with a jolt and cried out in abject agony; when the length of chain fell, its weight brought down his arms, muscles and joints rapidly forced to bend and move in directions they hadn't for a number of months. Thor's brow furrowed, his heart contracting at the pained expression on the other man's face.

"I am sorry." He eased Loki to the floor, the second son of Odin gagging, brought to spontaneous regurgitation by the extent of his misery. Mjolnir made quick work of shattering the chain, severing Loki at last from its serpentine imprisonment, only two links remaining attached to the cuffs. But the cuffs were bound to one another, and the chain between them was too short to break using the hammer without risking grave injury to Loki's human hands. Total liberation from those shackles would require some thought, and would need seeing to when they had more time. Thor wanted no part of hurting guards who were following orders. He wanted to be well away from the towers before they entered the cell to investigate the commotion.

Winding up, he swung Mjolnir overhead and struck the wall of the cell. A spider's web of fractures branched out from the point of impact, the building's entirety shuddering under its force. The second thunderous blow broke clear through the stone wallwork, and the night wind whistled into the cell, rustling Loki's loose curls. The younger god squinted into it, breathing the first breath of fresh air in a very long while.

Thor's concern regarding guard interference mounted, but despite the noise, no one came. He struck the wall a third time, then a fourth, widening the opening to a gaping hole broad enough for the brothers to pass through. Loki was struggling to stand on useless chalky legs, those limbs trembling and folding beneath him. He was as weak and graceless as a wet fawn, but some things were unchanged.

"This is very typically 'Thor,'" he said, derision dripping from his words. "All smashing and no finesse."

"Do you prefer to stay here?"

Loki's features softened, the spite fading from his expression as he shook his head, his lips and face colourless.

Thor detached his cape from his shoulders, furling the rich fabric around his brother, then gathering him again in a one-armed embrace. With his free hand, he wound Mjolnir swiftly, and once it was spinning quickly enough, he charged across the cell and leaped with his cargo through the opening he had made in the wall. Darkness engulfed them and no arrows sought them. It was too easy.

The night air was cool. Insulated by his power and vitality, Thor felt nothing but refreshed by its briskness against his face, but only moments had passed before Loki was blanketed in gooseflesh and shivering convulsively. His wrists were still bound, but he clutched with bony fingers at Thor's forearm where it crossed his waist. Glancing back over his shoulder, Thor watched the torchlight fade behind them, and spoke then with his mouth against his brother's ear, "Fear nothing. I will take us to lower ground, into warmth and hiding." No response came. Maintaining consciousness was consuming all of Loki's focus.

At the very fringe of the kingdom, where the population rose from the sea, a peninsula arched out and broke into a hook-shaped archipelago of small and tropical islands. The outermost few were surrounded by the blue brilliance of sandy shallows, and the very last, furthest from civilization, was of no greater breadth than Odin's primary banquet hall. Populated only by birds and trees, the island was brief stretch of white beach and a smooth wall of sheet rock hollowed into a varying series of caves.

Thor made his landing in the hard-packed wet sand beneath a cluster of palms, Loki now limp in his grasp. Holstering Mjolnir, he scooped his brother into the more secure cradle of both arms and carried him two hundred paces uphill into the cave with the smallest mouth. The blackness was absolute, but Thor knew he was nearing the end of the cave by the count of his footsteps. He knew it was the safest, the deepest, and the most secretive. He knew the water could not reach the back of it, even in a storm, and he knew no one frequented this place. It had once belonged to them.

Feeling blindly about with one hand, Thor found the rough rope rigging of an old canvas sail they had fashioned their ceiling from, tied in place to block the light from above and keep the cave cool on hot days and dry on wet ones. When he tugged the rope, the sail fell into a heap, and dust billowed, and moonlight spilled into the cave through a smattering of worm and waterholes from far overhead. Through the centuries, the holes had formed through tonnes of rock until at last they had reached the cave, now slanting in tubular blue pillars through the darkness. As he made his way toward their makeshift bed, his boot crushed something dry and delicate, a wreath of twigs.

"_You're the dragon." Loki lowered a crown made of boughs regally onto his own head. "I'm the king. Jump out from behind that boulder and scare me, and I will slay you." In richly-coloured clothes, his voice echoing in the hollow corridor of their cave, Loki certainly looked his part. Now that they were nearing pubescence, he always seemed to remain clean and composed while they played, even after rafting for ages to a desert isle and camping in a cave. _

_Thor was larger, broader, and a wild beast of a manchild, barefoot and barechested with sticks and leaves tangled in his sunbleached mane, a tear in his trousers. His protest was halfhearted: "I am always the dragon." Even as he spoke, he followed his orders, wedging his body between the heavy mound of a stone and the cave's back wall. He crouched there, listening while Loki set the scene, making galloping sounds to stage his approach, interacting with fellow warriors who did not exist. The expansive imagination made him smile, though that expression died on his lips when he recalled his father's admonishment at their disruptive play only days before, scolding them for childish destruction when they were soon to be warriors and kings; Thor knew their days of playing pretend were numbered._

_When Loki crept around the face of the boulder, Thor knew he was meant to leap forth and roar and gnash his teeth. Instead, he tackled Loki to the ground, easily immobilizing and disarming him, casting aside his wooden sword. Instead of ferocity, Thor opted for silliness, sitting astride his brother and tickling him. In the struggle, Loki's crown was dislodged and crushed and rolled crookedly away._

"_Stop, you fool!" he shouted, shoving at Thor's chest with both hands. "You ruin everything."_

There was melancholy in Thor's smile as he stooped to ease Loki onto the bed they had constructed ages ago of stolen palace linens. No one and nothing had bothered it in all the years since its last use, and though they had grown a good deal since last they'd stretched upon it, neither of them had outgrown this place. A moonbeam blanched a spot on Loki's cheek, made that skin even whiter than it naturally was, and another landed over his eyelid. His lashes fluttered as he forced himself to see, to take in their hiding place, and his brow smoothed as recognition dawned.

"Here?" he asked, and Thor nodded, still on his feet, removing his boots. "And then?"

"Focus less on 'then' and more on 'now,' brother. Here we are, safe and warm, dry, with fruit on the trees and fish in the sea." He removed his armor, standing over Loki alongside the bed.

"You will wish we had focused on 'then' when your father's guards are dragging us from bed and hanging you from the ceiling alongside me." Too weak to stand or walk, Loki still had the strength to kick the back of one of Thor's knees while he was momentarily blinded, dragging his tunic over his head. His knee buckled, but he caught himself before he lost balance, and turned to glare at his younger brother. Loki only smiled, pleased with his own mischief.

"Our father's guards didn't so much as open the door as I was smashing through the wall. Perhaps my saving you was part of his plan all along." The air was warm and damp, and even from the minor exertion of undressing, all of Thor's bronzen body was veiled in a sheen of perspiration. When Loki said nothing to disprove his theory, called him no names, Thor knew there was merit in what he had said. Either that, or it was ludicrous and Loki was choosing to hope against hope. "Shove over. The bed will still sleep us both."

Loki surprised Thor, and made room for him without further incident. Despite the fact that it was only blankets piled over rock, the bed was as comfortable as Thor remembered it when he stretched alongside the other man, exhausted by the night's stress and exploits. Eyes closed, he lay awhile in thoughtful silence, only the melodic push-and-pull rhythm of soft waves at the cave's mouth lulling them.

Long beyond the point when Thor had assumed Loki was asleep, the velvety sound of his voice filled the quiet: "How do you know I won't kill you while you are dreaming?"

"I don't," said Thor. The truth in it saddened him. "Go to sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

**First, thank you for the follows, favorites, PMs and reviews. I write other things for money, but this is just for fun. Knowing people like it is payment enough for me.**

**Second, please note that this chapter is a bit more risqué in the area of Thor and Loki being a little less than kin and more than kind. Simply put, it starts to get slashy here. If you don't like that sort of thing, please don't read on.**

**Hope you've all enjoyed your weekend.**

**CHAPTER THREE**

Thor sat at the mouth of the cave with his back to one of its walls, watching the sun rise high into a midday sky. With a blade from his belt, he sliced chunks from a piece of fruit and ate them without tasting the sweetness, deep in thought.

In the night, no one and nothing had come for them. It was unrealistic, he knew, to think that the guards would not have told Odin of Loki's liberation. Still king, Odin could have gone to Heimdall had he so chosen, and could have been upon them in mere seconds. But he had not come. Thor and Loki had slept through safely, undisturbed, and Loki still slumbered now. It was no accident that they were being allowed this morning, as they had been allowed the night, but why?

The Allfather's every action was born of a purpose. Working so closely for long months at his right hand had taught Thor to read into each command for a reason, a lesson, and it had grown Thor in the direction of patriarchal capability, more in the time of Loki's imprisonment than in all of his previous life's years combined.

"Are you testing me?" Thor spoke the words aloud, anticipating no response. He needed none. It was the only reasonable explanation; for some purpose, to an end he could not yet see, he was on trial, being watched and scored. The way he executed this with Loki undoubtedly carried some weight. He would need to do the right things, make wise decisions about what was to become of his brother and not let Loki's lying silver tongue into his ear. Loki's own fate would likely depend on Thor's own strength. And Thor owed it to him to keep him safe, even if that meant keeping him safe from himself. He owed him a great many things.

Rising from where he sat, wearing only undergarments, he slung the pit of his fruit into the sea and stretched with great arms over his head. Here in daylight, he wanted to wake Loki, to wash and feed him and make certain nothing was grievously wrong with him. He had been sleeping for a worrisome amount of time, and his body had been weakened by the torture to an extent that it would likely sleep on into its own demise.

Daylight had infiltrated the cave, though the hollow at its far end where they kept their camp was still fairly dark. Loki had stretched his body across the bed in Thor's absence, sleeping on his back at a diagonal with his mouth and his legs open. In repose, he looked like an innocent. White as a china doll, his delicate features relaxed, there was nothing about the image that spoke of the liar and killer he was. It was an image that transported Thor, as so many seemed now to be doing, back into a simpler time.

_Wet and naked, nearly a man, Thor jogged barefoot down the cave's corridor. Saltwater ran from his golden limbs and when he stopped beside the bed, it pooled on the rock floor around his feet. His hair was very long, wild and bleached by the sun and falling to the middle of his back. The wiry suppleness of adolescence was beginning to leave him in favour of a sturdier musculature. Loki remained as slender and lissom as a willow's branch, and he was sleeping in the shape of a starfish, every limb thrown outward, rosy lips parted._

_As it had begun to do in moments like these, Thor's heart pounded and a breathless smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. Passing through buttery slants of morning light, he covered Loki's body with his own. The smaller figure beneath him jolted into animation immediately, startled by the wetness, the difference in temperature. He slapped Thor's chest at its centre with both hands in unison and scowled at him, not yet fully awake._

"_Troll," Loki said, voice gravelly from sleep. "Get off." But like always, his resistance lacked conviction, and Thor kissed him instead. The wet ropes of his hair fell to frame their faces as their tongues made a salty dance, and Loki's soft fingers pulled at Thor's damp skin, his hips raised and seeking friction._

_Untaught and untouched, Loki was graceful even in his inexperience, and Thor's body responded to it. This kiss was more intimate than those leading up to it had been, more significant. When it broke, they both gasped to catch their breath, the cave walls echoing that panting back at them._

"_Get up and swim with me," Thor said, pinching Loki's bare thigh where it rested against his hip. Loki jumped at the sting, but didn't admonish his brother for it this time._

"_Do more than kiss me." Loki's pale eyes pleaded as he spoke, fear and longing living there together, his lust colouring his high cheekbones. _

_Thor chuckled, pinching him again. "What more?"_

_At this, Loki closed his eyes, pressing his smooth cheek to a blonde whiskered one. "Do to me as you've done to Signy." A handmaiden of their mother. "As you've done to Tyr." This was a more apt comparison. Tyr, a pageboy and one of their sparring partners. Thor had taken him in an empty stable stall on a bed of fresh-strewn straw. _

"_You spied on me!" Thor's tone and expression were of surprised amusement._

"_Do that." Entreaty. A hint of frustration._

_For a moment, Thor waffled with indecision. There was no denying that his body wanted this, but something deeper warned him against it. Without really comprehending why, he shook his head and stood up, dragging Loki to his feet as well by one wrist._

"_No. Swim with me."_

_Loki hung back, resisting the tugging toward the sea._

"_Why won't you, when you will with anyone else?"_

_Incapable of sincerely expressing why, unwilling to try, Thor released his hold on his brother and ran ahead, his answer ringing against tunneled rock, "Why **would** I, when I can with anyone else?"_

Heavy with guilt, now painfully aware of so many moments of cruelty in their past, Thor bent over the bed and placed a hand to Loki's arm.

"Wake up."

There was no fight in him when he did. Thor roped an arm around his waist and held most of his weight for him, but made him walk the length of the cave with help nonetheless. Sitting in the sand, neither of them spoke while Thor used a small blade to pick the locks of Loki's shackles. It was tedious work, and even once they were open, Loki was not free of them; they left raw red rings around his wrists, wounds open in some places, his skin chafed away and bleeding.

"I'll bind those for you after we bathe," Thor said, and rose to undress.

"No one came." Loki was incredulous, squinting across the neon brilliance of shallow water.

"I think Father is testing me. Testing us, perhaps."

"How so? To see what you'll do with me?"

"Perhaps." Thor brought Loki upright again to remove his undergarments, and the younger god shoved the helping hands away, wavering where he stood in an indignant refusal to have assistance with something so undignified. "You're going to fall," Thor warned him. And he did, stumbling and taking a knee when he attempted to step out of his clothes on his own, sand clinging to the sore wet flesh at his wrists when he dropped his hands to catch himself. He was white as milk and trembling.

"You must help me to regain my power."

"Must I?" Lifting Loki beneath the arms and taking him to the water's edge, Thor shook his head. "Somehow, I do not think that would help either of us in passing Father's test. But I can help you to regain your strength. Sit."

Loki sat as directed in the shallows, the water gentle and warm and no deeper than their chests. With careful hands, Thor rubbed the blood and filth from Loki's body, schools of small silver fish tickling them as they darted beneath the surface. The ocean rocked them with tranquil waves while Thor tipped his brother back to wash his hair, the dulling mixture of oil and blood stripped away to reveal the gleaming ebony of those locks as they were meant to be.

"There," he said when he was satisfied. "You are a new man."

"No." Loki shook his head, weary. "I'm very, very old." And Thor could not argue, as Loki's green eyes looked tired and ancient, indeed. It saddened him.

"You've missed breakfast, but I'll fish our lunch. Sit and soak your bones awhile, brother."

"I'm not your brother, Thor."

Thor chose to ignore him. With flint in hand, he started a fire in the pit they'd always used and retrieved the spear they'd always fished with from a ledge inside. Golden, glistening and naked as a newborn babe, Thor skewered two monstrous fish near an outcropping of rock. He carried them back with his forefingers hooked in their mouths and cleaned them on a flat black rock, tossing fillets of their flesh onto a grate suspended over the flames.

"Are you pickled yet?" he asked Loki, coaxing a shadow of a smile from the younger man at that.

"Nearly." Then he admitted, "And starved."

They sat side-by-side on Thor's cape and ate in the shade, succulent mouthfuls of fresh fish and chunks of wet red fruit. They didn't speak for a long stretch of time, eating intently in one another's company.

"_The last time we were here, do you remember what I asked you?" Loki's eyes were downcast as he spoke his question aloud, breaking a long silence with it. His hair had recently been cut and fell only to his ears in loose curls wet from a swim._

"_You asked me to take you." Thor smiled, studying his brother's profile. Of course he remembered. It had weighed heavily on his mind in the days since then. He had stayed away from Loki's chambers in the night since, had refrained from kissing him or holding him. "Why do you speak of it now?" _

"_I'm glad you said no." Loki was eating berries, and his lips were stained as though painted. "I think I want someone different. His name is Bjorn. He is the brother of Tyr, do you know him?"_

In the wake of their gluttony, Loki was exhausted, slumped against Thor with his back against the tree of a palm.

"Did you think of me at all?" he asked, his voice adrift. Thor knew he was not long for the waking world. "When I was in the tower?"

"Of course I thought of you."

"While you were dining and bedding handmaidens?"

"Every day, Loki. Not only while I was dining and bedding handmaidens." There was no point in denying that he had done those things. Loki knew him too well.

"What were your thoughts of me?" The younger son of Odin closed his eyes.

"They were many. And they varied."

"Tell them to me."

"Some of them were fond, because I missed you," Thor admitted. "For so many years, you were half of who I was. My closest ally, my dearest friend. Many of those thoughts were memories of us as children."

"And others?" A murmur, barely coherent.

"Others were angry. Thoughts of disappointment and betrayal. At times, I numbered in my mind the reasons you deserved to be exactly where you were. The lives you ended, the people you hurt, the wreckage you caused on Midgard... And then, other times, I numbered in my mind the reasons I deserved to be there with you." Thor stopped speaking, his throat thick, and Loki made a soft sound, but it was obvious by his breathing that he was very nearly asleep. "All the times I failed you. The times I hurt you and gave you cause to want to hurt others in return."

_Bjorn was long-legged and flaxen-haired, and his blue eyes swam with fear and excitement both as Thor took him. The dizzying jealousy that had plagued Thor since this servant's name had fallen from Loki's lips a week ago on their island lessened with every thrust, his fists twisting in the bedsheets and sweat beading across his upper lip._

_When it was over, Thor handed Bjorn one of his own tunics. _

"_Wear this when you go riding with Loki in the morning." The boy looked confused, but it was by far the finest thing he had ever had in his hands, and he nodded his consent. "When Loki asks you about it, tell him what we did."_

"I failed you." Thor whispered those words again. "But I won't this time."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate your kind words. They are what makes me want to write more of this. I'm sorry I've been updating only weekly. Will try to make it more frequent. People who Tumblr, check out my Thunderfrost blog there - thunderfrostdiaries dot tumblr dot com .**_

_**CHAPTER FOUR**_

The days that followed adopted a lazy regularity Thor was grateful for. Loki slept for long stretches, his broken body needing the rest to repair itself. Like a newborn babe, he slumbered at great depths and woke only when disturbed. Thor used the time to gather fruit, to spear and clean fish, to fly using Mjolnir to the nearest island in the archipelago to hunt boar and fill clay jugs with potable water. He woke Loki thrice daily to eat, forced him to stand on diminished legs and weathered his pained wrath patiently.

At times, Loki was determined to be stronger, and would grip Thor's wrists, trying to make use of his muscles, fighting against the weakness that wanted to consume him. At times, he would grit his teeth and sweat, doing his damnedest to climb from their bed alone. Other times, Thor had to drag him bodily from it, to hold him forcibly upright until Loki yielded his stubbornness and used his own legs to stand. In frustration at his own futility, Loki often made wild accusations.

"You would have me fall! You know I cannot stand," he would say. Or, "You're taking pleasure from this!"

But Thor was not. He steadied Loki's balance when he needed it, and caught him when he fell. The body of the younger man was not built for withstanding beatings. Even in possession of all of his power, Loki had never performed well as a battering ram. While Thor thrived on collision and brutality, Loki avoided it. Even while in battle, he relied on shades and tricks rather than on close combat. Thor could tell now by looking at him that he had taken punches to make up for all of those he'd averted over the years using magic, that he had been flogged and battered with heavy fists, denied proper sustenance and confined to a cage of mortal flesh. Only moments of standing or minutes of sitting upright and eating meant hours of hard, still sleep recuperating from the exertion. And for Thor, it meant days alone with the company of only his own thoughts.

_In a room the colour of gunmetal, Thor sat beside his muzzled brother. The door was closed on them, granting them the privacy of these final moments before they would be publicly returned to Asgard, but there were guards posted beyond those doors. Slumped forward, elbows to his knees, his own blood drying his tunic to his side, Thor was overcome by a heavy grief. Even now, so fresh on the heels of such death and destruction, he longed to reach for the other man, to pull the muzzle from Loki's lying lips, to let his brother lie to him and trick him into liberating him. But he could not. _

_Loki's bound hands lay in his lap, and he was motionless, sombre and pale as death. There was a distance in his eyes, a resignation to all he knew could possibly follow, and Thor envied his brother that acceptance. When he spoke, his voice sounded broken in his own ears._

"_I can't save you from this." Lifting a hand, Thor swiped at an escaped tear, smearing it across his cheek. "I don't see a way out of this room that ends well for you. How do I put right what you've done?" Thor's heart was beating fast at the thought of Loki on trial; he knew the Allfather would be forced to be just in the wake of his adopted son's very public transgressions. Would Thor have to stand witness against Loki? Could he, when so much of this guilt was his own? "You have fallen again into darkness. And again, I don't know how to reach you and bring you back." Beside him, Loki moved at last, turning his face toward the wall and away from his brother. "Father will punish you. I know not how. But you would be a fool to expect his mercy." Would Loki be banished? Incarcerated? Relieved of all memory and knowledge of himself? Put to death? Would Thor's legs even hold his own weight during the sentencing, or would he take a knee in front of the king's court? He felt now as though he could openly weep, but knew it would be selfish to do so. Instead, he gave long pause, kept quiet until he trusted himself again to speak. "Are you not afraid?"_

_At this, Loki reached for one of his hands without so much as turning to regard him, holding it between the both of his bound ones. Thor squeezed back, and without wondering why, he leaned across the open space to kiss the fragrant softness of Loki's skin at his hairline, his brow furrowing as he did it. The smaller man tilted his head into the contact, eyes closing and black lashes growing damp with his own tears. The sight of them was more than Thor trusted himself to bear, and rather than pass another moment in the threat of his own vulnerability to his love for his brother, he got to his feet and used the hands he was holding to pull Loki to his own, as well._

"_We must go."_

_Loki resisted, jerking his hands from Thor's grip. It took Thor a moment to regain hold of him, grabbing the chain that joined the prisoner's wrists together. Still, the younger god struggled, laying the entire weight of his body into the fight and forcing Thor to advance a few steps in order to keep control of him. Overtaking the offensive, Thor shoved Loki roughly against the wall in the corner, pinning him there with his own mass._

"_Stop this!" he hissed, and Loki's green eyes shone with a raw fear that broke the older brother's heart. "It's too late. You know it is." He kept the pressure of his weight in place until the tension left the captive's body, Loki slumping against him and hiding his face in the safe anonymity of Thor's neck. The older Odinson's voice faded to a whisper as he enveloped Loki in an embrace, "I love you in spite of all, but it's too late. Now come with me and face what you have done. Come, Loki."_

"Come, Loki." Thor shook his sleeping companion. "Let us eat."

Without opening his eyes, Loki kicked at him, his foot landing squarely in Thor's abdomen. "No. Bring my food to me."

Grunting as he absorbed the impact, Thor caught Loki's ankle and hauled him from the bed upside-down, dragging him naked over one shoulder and carrying him out into the sunlight. He deposited the smaller man unceremoniously on his uncertain legs in the sand and withdrew his support, leaving Loki to waver there, glaring at him spitefully.

"Swine," the younger brother spat.

"Stop this childish protest when you know I mean only to help you!" Thor's voice was thunderous, rich and full of his frustration on the air between them. Bending to lift Mjolnir and a piece of firewood, he carried them both to a cluster of palms some twenty paces away. He pounded the slab of wood with the hammer to wedge it between the trunks of two trees, then retrieved Loki's portion of their lunch and stashed it on the makeshift shelf. Returning to his brother's side, he sat in the sand and tucked into his own food. For a moment, Loki stood in stunned silence. But there was never any longevity in his quiet.

"You're a monster," he said. "You would have me starve!"

"No." Thor spoke with a full mouth, shaking his head. "I would have you walk."

"You know I cannot."

"No, you think you cannot. You may never again have the strength of a god, and indeed a mortal form is weaker; I know this as you do. But humans can walk, climb and fight. You have a great many enemies, and I would be doing you a grave disservice to let you leave this island without the ability to defend yourself."

"You want to make a warrior of me?" Loki snorted. "Like the archer? Or perhaps an assassin, like the redhead?"

"You have no magic." It felt strange to hear Loki speak of his friends. The man before him, whom he loved so much despite his madness, would have killed any Avenger remorselessly, himself included.

"I'll get it back."

"Not today, you won't." _Or perhaps ever_, he thought. "And I know you're hungry."

Loki had no rebuttal for this statement, just blinked with a concentrated loathing at his captor. And saviour. Out of sheer stubbornness, he remained rooted to the spot for a long while. Thor hummed with exaggerated pleasure as he tore strips of slow-smoked boar's meat from the bone and chewed, and Loki rolled his eyes. Only when his mortal belly made a plaintive rumbling noise did he begin to move. Extending his arms on either side, Loki ventured one foot forward, and Thor's heart sang with triumph.

The steps were graceless and faltering, and when Loki fell to his knees halfway there, shaking and sweating, he whipped his head round to look at Thor, perhaps expecting mockery. But there was none to be found. Instead, Thor rose and walked to help Loki again to his feet. Pale hands gripped his forearms, the scarred body tense with the effort required to stay upright.

"I've gone far enough," he reasoned, curls clinging to his damp brow and throat.

"No." Thor's voice was gentle as he prised Loki's fingers from his skin and stepped out of his reach. "You're doing well. Continue on."

"I can't." Loki balled his fists against his own belly.

"You loathe your own weakness, do you not? Put an end to it. You can do this."

And so he crept forward again, and Thor hung behind. Loki's legs were shaking visibly under his own weight, and he stumbled to one knee again before he reached the trees. This time, though Thor moved to assist, Loki shook his head and held his hand out to keep him at bay. The final paces were a reeling rush, and Loki caught himself with an arm around a slender trunk, pressing his forehead to it while he fought to level his breathing. Thor grinned at the sight of his brother's victorious and secretive smile into the bark.

"I saw that," he laughed. "You may be angry with me, but you're still pleased."

"And you are still a troll." Loki reached up to retrieve his food, making no attempt to conceal his smile now. He seated himself and hunched over his lunch, and Thor's happiness was untarnished by the insult. Loki's cheeks were pink with pleasure and exertion.

"_You're a troll, hiding like this in the darkness," Loki whispered, crouching beside his brother in the shadows, the pair of them tucked into one of the castle's many alcoves, this one positioned along an upper level walkway which overlooked an empty banquet hall, the elongated tables and benches dusty from lack of use. They wore lavish gladrags after the evening's festivities, Thor in red and Loki in green. Both had removed their helmets as soon as they were dismissed from the supper table, but only Thor's mane was unruly. He lifted his finger to his lips to silence Loki, then used the same finger to point to the couple below, a young servant girl and a member of their father's court. He was standing too near to her, cradling her cheek against one palm and murmuring shameful propositions neither boy could hear the detail of. _

_Her righteous indignation carried more clearly in the open air than his seduction: "Of course, you flatter me. But what of my wedding night? What will I tell him? I could not."_

_More murmuring from the richly-garbed lothario._

"_I should not..." Her arguments were lacking conviction, now. And then, there was a kiss. And soon after, a touch. The boys were wide-eyed as the maiden found herself laid across the tabletop like a holiday feast, her skirts hitched by hungry hands to hinge over lily-white hips. The man's hands, then his face, then his arousal, plundered between her thighs, and she cried out, fists twisting his tunic while he pushed into her and took her innocence as casually as one might pluck a grape from a vine. _

_Thor, hard as the handle of his hammer in his best breeches, tore his gaze away from the spectacle to look into Loki's face. Even in shadow, he could see the stain of want in the younger man's cheeks. Reaching out, he sought the groin of green trousers and cupped it, and at that first touch, Loki nearly sprang from his own skin, eyes full of accusation and desire turning on Thor. Giving him half a cocky smile, Thor released his hold on the younger man's erection and instead pushed his hand into his own trousers, to touch himself with bare skin against skin._

"_Pleasure yourself while you watch," he breathed, barely more than mouthing the words, not wanting his whispers to reach the rutting couple of adulterers below. Loki's brows lifted, and he shook his head, his lips parting. "Do it. And I will, too."_

"_No," said Loki, but he was already unfastening the laces of his pants._

"_Yes, yes, yes." Thor smiled, then returned his gaze to the scene on the table. While he stroked himself, he listened to his brother's breathing build and break, and felt the burning of those green eyes on him the entire time._

Thor blinked himself back to the present, and found himself affected in a passionate way by the memory. Wearing nothing, there was no way he could have disguised it. Thankfully, Loki was otherwise occupied, enjoying the spoils of his efforts and more or less ignoring the larger man. Rising to his feet, Thor put his back to Loki as quickly as he could, holding his length against his lower belly so it didn't swing about as he walked.

"Eat," he said without looking. "I'll return in a moment." Loki didn't respond.

At the back of the cave, he hoisted the canvas ceiling to its hooks so he would have the cloak of darkness if by some miracle his comrade managed to reach him unawares. Bracing his weight on one forearm, he hunched against the wall and used his free hand to pull at himself, tugging quickly, roughly. He imagined it was Loki's body and not the callouses of his own palm dragging down the length of him, conjuring crisp and melancholy filth to his mind's eye until the frustration flowed unchecked from his body to paint the stone before him.

In the wake of it, he was breathless and ashamed. _Why are you?_ he asked himself. _He begged you for it in this very room, just paces away. _Thor stooped to lift what remained of a jug of drinking water, splashing at the wall and smearing the pearly evidence with his fingertips until there was nothing damningly obvious remaining. _But that was years ago. Who's to say he wants it now? _He jerked the canvas down and stowed it in the corner, then stepped into his trousers. The warring halves of himself made him dizzy as his pulse regained normalcy. _You know he has always wanted it. Even before you knew he was of another bloodline, he has wanted it. And your refusal is part of what turned him to darkness. Why shouldn't you give him what he has always wanted? _Cinching the laces of his pants tightly, Thor swallowed and stared down toward the mouth of the cave's lighted ellipse. _Because he is wicked. Because he is weak._

But Thor knew, walking back toward the beach, that Loki would not always be weak. The exercise today had proven that to him. Tomorrow, he would make the other man take 25 paces for his lunch. The following day, thirty. And soon, he would make him climb the tree. He would make Loki strong, and did not doubt his ability to do that. Making him good and keeping him sane would be another challenge entirely.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you so much for all of your messages and reviews. They truly are what makes me want to continue with this story. I apologise for the time it's taken me to write this chapter! I've got the next one already finished, so it won't be so long a wait again, I promise. **_

_**Same warnings as ever; Thor & Loki are a bit less than kin and more than kind.**_

_**CHAPTER FIVE**_

Loki stood with his hands on his hips, winded and damp with perspiration. His chest rose and fall with the drawing of heavy breaths and he wore soft trousers bought by Thor in the rustic marketplace two islands away.

"Are you tired?" Thor asked, smiling and giving one of Loki's thighs a gentle tap with Mjolnir. "Do you yield?"

Loki blew out a sigh and stooped to retrieve the staff he had been given to do battle with. It was no scepter, no great tool possessing of any ancient power or dark deceptive magic. It was merely a hard-carved stick, sharp on one end and weighted on the other, but Thor had forced him to spend such lengths of time sparring with it in recent weeks that Loki now moved as though the object were an extension of his own body.

Gone were the protrusions of bone, the vulgar lines of emaciation softened. Loki was still slender, especially standing alongside Thor, but the beads of his vertebrae no longer jutted from the valley of his spine. His ribs were visible through his skin when he lifted his arms, but the ribcage no longer bore the frightening, hollow prominence of a man near death by starvation. Thor had made certain he ate well and rested well, and it showed in the healthy pink glow across his cheeks, the supple new muscle in his arms and thighs, and the keenness in his eyes.

"Soon," came the answer to Thor's question, and Loki smiled as he lifted his weapon, ready to spar another round. "Not yet."

They moved as though dancing in the late afternoon light, Loki striking and Thor deflecting his attacks, sand flying outward from their bare feet. The God of Thunder was strong, but his darker counterpart was swift and cunning, even trapped in the cage of his weak and mortal body. When the staff landed across Thor's knuckles or caught him in the gut, he laughed heartily and shook it off; his pupil's capability to strike and hurt him was pleasing.

In the innumerable hours spent training Loki, Thor had shown him how to do battle at close range, schooling him in hand-to-hand combat and making obvious just how reliant Loki had become upon his magic in a fight. The magic was no more, possibly nevermore, so Thor had shown him to use his hands, the weight of his body, the sharp angles of his elbows and knees, even the battering force of his own forehead. Thor made Loki run. He made him climb trees. He made him jump over logs and boulders, and made him punch and kick at his own meaty palms. He made him eat until he was overfull and holding his belly, unable to do anything but fall into a hard-won sleep.

At first, as with everything where Loki was concerned, getting him to participate had been a battle in itself. But pride and determination had turned the tide, and somewhere along the line, the whining had stopped and been replaced by a steely resolve to do this well. Isolated and unbothered by the rest of Asgard, Thor could only assume that the privacy they were being granted was tantamount to Odin's own blessing.

Loki was not above complaining, expressing his boredom, taking out his frustration on his older companion, falling into surly silences and refusing cooperation at times. But it had not escaped Thor's notice that his captive never asked to leave the island. In moments when Loki's face became a haunted mask, eyes filled with unspoken darkness, Thor knew without being told that this man was not one ready for life among the masses. The task of healing Loki's mind and spirit from the horrors of the towers presented itself as a far more daunting hurdle for Thor to clear than the job of healing his body. While the two were intertwined, to an extent, Thor had much less control over the inner workings of his once-brother's mind. Indeed, before he had even the slightest inkling that Loki was involved in traitorous liaisons with outlying races, Frost Giants had stormed the weapons vault. It was an unsettling reminder of Loki's unpredictability, of his longstanding brokenness. Thor was determined to fix him, or die trying.

"I'm finished!" said Loki, shaking Thor from the thoughts of his own would-be coronation. He blinked to clear his head, and realized in that moment that he had segued naturally and without intent into the implement of flawless battle he'd always been. He was holding both Mjolnir and Loki's staff, one in each hand, wholly on the offensive while his brother stood with both hands raised in startled surrender. Breaking his posture, Thor smiled and extended his arm with the staff once more, his heart giving a single guilty clutch at the glimpse of fear in the other man's green eyes, a memory overtaking him.

_Loki dropped to his knees in the dust, hands lifted in surrender, their palms pink from the wielding of a heavier sword than he was accustomed to. _

"_I yield," he said, and the squire appointed to attend him could be heard making ready their horses. He looked as though he might cry, but Thor only laughed, tossing aside his own sword so they were equally unarmed. _

"_No, not yet." Reaching for Loki's wrist, Thor hauled the smaller boy to his feet. Shirtless in the afternoon, the golden down growing on Thor's chest caught the light. He was proud of it, and Loki had none; the three years between them, at this particular stage in their lives, may as well have been an eternity. "Now we'll fight without weapons."_

"_Why should we?" Loki asked, his brow furrowing and cheeks flushing. He looked tired, resigned to his loss, but a quiet fury smouldered in green eyes. "So you can beat me again? You've won. I forfeit whatever secondary battle it is you would now have me lose, too."_

"_Fight me, you coward," Thor laughed._

"_Boys," said Odin, calling across the dry meadow to them both from his vantage point. With one word, they knew they were finished for the day. The word addressed them both, but as Thor looked to his father, shielding his eyes from the sun, the irritation in Odin's tone and expression told Thor that it had been meant only for him, and carried a reprimand. Though he knew many regarded him as the favourite, the chosen one, many times Thor could not help but feel he could do nothing right, as though the very nature Odin had cultivated in him was a constant source of shame, as well. Thor was always crossing an invisible line, always missing a moving target, slaving to be what Odin wanted of him without ever truly hitting the mark. It was infuriating._

_Loki dropped his hands, and for no other reason than because he was standing nearest, Thor struck him and knocked him back into the dirt. He was flooded with remorse as soon as he did it, his brother's eyes full of betrayal as he touched his bleeding mouth with a shaking hand._

"_I am sorry," said Thor, but Loki was scrambling to his feet, turning away from the hand Thor offered him. He ran the opposite way, swallowed presently by the cool shade and solace of the forest, vanishing from view just as Odin's hand closed on the nape of Thor's neck._

Loki ate silently, freshly bathed and smelling of the sea. Even here and now, after everything, he ate neatly over his plate, pulling the flesh from the bones of a bird Thor had brought down with an arrow with careful teeth and chewing with his mouth closed. Thor had long since finished his meat, slicing and munching down cubes of white coconut on the other side of the cave, watching the other man eat. In the wake of the day's last sparring match, the darker Odinson had kept very quiet, and Thor wondered now whether the interaction had called the very same memory to his companion. He considered bringing it up, considered speaking an apology aloud, but now, over dinner, that moment under their father's gaze felt like light years away. If Loki wasn't thinking of it, Thor didn't want to give him cause to. Still, the wordless expanse was stretching well beyond the norm, and he wanted to break it.

"Your hair is long," he said, allowing blue eyes to follow the languid path of wet black waves where they clung to Loki's shoulders and upper arms.

"The sky is blue." Loki's dry response came without eye contact or any hint of humour, and although he knew he was being mocked, Thor smiled.

"You haven't spoken in hours."

"I didn't realise conversation was one of the conditions of your hospitality." Loki stood with the bones of his dinner and carried them down the cave's tunnel, toward the orange ellipse of its mouth; beyond it, Thor knew a spectacular sunset must be taking place. Wiping his blade on his trousers, he stretched out on his back and blinked up into the gathering dark, listening to the solid thumping of his own heart and awaiting the other's return.

His thoughts turned to Jane, and he shut his eyes so he could see her face more clearly, hear the sound of her voice, recall the bow of her smile and the shape of her body. With small hands and a warm heart and a brilliant and open mind, the fondness for her had come easily, resurfacing now with the same simplicity. Could he take Loki to her on Midgard? Could he trust her with that knowledge, and could he trust Loki not to harm her? Was it just, in any way, to even consider reentering her life after everything? Even without magic, Loki could lie and coerce and steal and raise all manner of mayhem, and Thor knew his brother's jealous and angry heart.

"Not yet," he whispered aloud, beginning to feel drowsy. And after a long while alone, Thor lost himself to the warm draw of sleep, fingers still curled loosely around the handle of his knife.

He woke to a cooler set of hands touching his fingers, and he stirred just a bit without really surfacing. The hands were prying at his fingers, trying to loosen his grip, and when the pulling grew stronger, it brought Thor clear of the clutch of sleep all at once. He closed his hand instinctively to grip his knife, but his fingers met only his own empty palm. Jolting awake, it took Thor's eyes a moment to adjust to the night. When they did, he saw that Loki was crouched beside him, squatting at bedside in the dim glow of moonlight with the knife in hand. The image sent a rolling chill through him, adrenaline seeping silvery through his veins and kicking his pulse into immediate acceleration as he lifted his gaze to meet the other man's eyes.

The crux of the situation was not lost on Thor, even seconds from sleep. The painful truth was that Loki was just as likely to be taking the knife to slit Thor's throat as he was to be taking it just to set it aside, out of their bed. To wrongly accuse Loki now would set them back immeasurably. To underestimate the severity of the moment could mean his own death some other night. The quiet was deafening, so rife with tension that Thor's muscles ached from it, and though only a handful of seconds passed while he awaited some movement, some explanation from Loki, it felt like an eternity.

Desperate to break the moment's chokehold, Thor spoke with convincing nonchalance, "Are you going to kill me or come to bed?"

Loki dropped the knife to the floor of the cave then, the visible stiffness in his hands telling Thor that the bloody thought had, at the very least, crossed his mind. He didn't immediately climb into the bed, seating himself next to it on the smooth stone and hugging his knees to his chest. Thor watched him, fighting to regulate his heartbeat and his breathing, to maintain an image of unaffected normalcy. After a long pause, the younger man's voice came softly through the blue dark.

"I wasn't going to kill you."

"Weren't you?"

"I should."

"Because I was cruel to you when we were children?" Thor's brow furrowed, speaking his guilt aloud. In the early days of Loki's madness, he had been so perplexed, so unable to understand why his brother would hate him. Now, given so much time to reflect, he could have listed a thousand reasons.

"Because you have shown me my weakness, all my life. And even now, when I am as strong as this body can ever be, I am weaker than I was as a boy." The anguish was thick in his voice. "And here you are, resplendent in your godliness, a constant reminder of what I've never been and shall never be."

"You're powerful in other ways," said Thor, brow furrowing in the face of the other man's pain.

"I am powerless! In all ways!" Loki swiped angrily at his tears, devastated by his own crippling futility, and Thor could only watch with an aching heart.

"Your mind is still as sharp as it ever was, Loki. And you may yet regain your magic. Our father-"

"Your father had me hung by my hands for months on end. Burned, beaten, stripped and humiliated, without magic, without any way to defend myself. Starved until I could no longer walk, flogged, filthy. He would have executed me had you not begged him to be merciful. You're a fool if you think he'll ever trust me again with magic."

"I don't know if he ever will. But killing me won't better your chances."

Loki shook his head, and for a time, he said nothing. Born to be a king, bred to rule, Thor knew Loki was no better suited to life as a mortal than he'd been, himself. He remembered all too well the excruciating despair of trying to lift Mjolnir from the stone and being unable to do so. Though some of it was well deserved, Loki's suffering had been and continued to be far worse.

"What do you want me to do?" Thor asked at last, reaching for the other man's hand. It was cool, damp from Loki's tears, but the former God of Mischief didn't pull it away.

"I want you to be the weak one. I want to be more powerful than you."

Green eyes boring into his soul, Thor was still and quiet in the wake of those words. He could feel the truth in them, could remember so clearly a maddened Loki expressing his desire for them to be equals. It was beyond Thor's capacity to find or restore Loki's magic. Even if he _could_ grant him that godly power, he didn't know whether he _would_, for the good of any realm. But if he, himself, was the problem... If Thor was the constant reminder of Loki's pain and helplessness... If his companion needed to feel stronger, more powerful than Thor... That much, he could provide.

He could lay down his alpha warrior masculinity and give himself to Loki the way so many men and women had done for him. He could be the weak one. He could let Loki overpower him, could let the younger man feel the heady rush of lust and domination. Loki could rut away his pain and frustration, then lose himself in the weary peace of satiation afterwards. This in mind, Thor pulled Loki slowly toward him by the hand he held, a nervous hitch presenting itself in his breath.

"Take me, then," he whispered. "I'll be the weak one. I'll surrender myself beneath you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Brorskap, Chapter Six**

**Disclaimers: **Sex. Whether or not you consider Thor and Loki to be brothers, be warned that there's intimacy between the two of them in this chapter. If you don't like that, please don't read it. Also, these are not my characters.

**Thank You: **From the bottom of my heart. I love your reviews, follows and favourites. I write this because I love them so much.

**CHAPTER SIX**

"Have you done this before?"

_Thor shook his head, suddenly less sure of himself. The water was high and rough, and Odin had cautioned them more than once against crossing here on foot at this time of year. But somehow, after promising Loki a feast of as many berries as his belly could hold, after tormenting himself with the daydream of their sweetness, Thor couldn't bring himself to turn back now._

"_No, but it will be alright."_

"_The current will tear us apart." Loki looked up at Thor, a head and shoulders height difference between them. The cool air had coloured his cheeks and his long hair was doing a fluid ance on the wind. "It's that strong."_

"_Nothing is that strong, Loki." Thor moved to the very edge of the riverbank, where the grassy slope became a steep rocky drop into the deep water. "I can stand it. Climb up onto me."_

Loki's chest was warm against Thor's back, bare skin making a hushed rushing noise where it met in the darkness. A heavy cloud cover had snuffed the blue moonlight, so the preparatory fumbling was all blind haste and hints – a brush of knuckles here, a whispered oath there. The sound of Loki spitting into his palm made Thor's belly flip where it was pressed to the blanket, the unfamiliar thrill of nervousness seeping through his limbs, and he smiled softly into the bedding at the audible hitch in the other man's breathing. What was Loki feeling? He knew better than to ask, but it didn't stop him from wanting to. Was he excited? Sorrowful? Happy? Anxious?

A muscle in Thor's shoulder flinched as a cool droplet of water struck it, a second finding the nape of his neck, a third and a fourth each striking the back of his thigh. Soon the music of island rainfall was deafening, the holes in the ceiling of their sanctuary allowing some in to find them, to freckle their naked flesh.

"_We should stop and turn back!" Loki drew up short, reaching for Thor's hand to stop him, as well. The fragrant mountain forest rose up around their narrow path on all sides, and they'd been exploring for hours, two favourite handmaidens in tow. What had begun as a mizzle was now a proper downpour, Loki's emerald cloak sodden and heavy. The crown of flowers Sygny had woven for him drooped now onto his pale forehead, and his lips were flushed, as though he'd just been kissing._

"_It's only water, you fool. Have some more wine, and you'll be warm enough." Thor smiled and reached out to hold him by the nape of the neck, as he sometimes did. He was merrily drunk, happy to amble without aim in the summer forest. The two girls were some fifty paces behind and around a bend, but their sweet voices carried well enough to the brothers; they were link-armed and singing, pleasantly inebriated. _

"_Brother, you have had enough wine for the both of us. I have my schoolbooks. They'll be ruined, and we won't make the supper table in time if we don't turn back."_

"_We can find shelter." Thor's voice was warm and promising as he drew Loki near by that familiar grip, his lips a finger's breadth from his supple adolescent brother's. Loki's irritation was real but waning in the newfound proximity, and in the evening's newfound potential. "We can build a fire and stay the night. You can take that maid. It's past time you did that, anyway. I know she'll have you. And if she won't, I will."_

"_You're a liar. But alright."_

Save his own, there were no two hands in all nine realms more familiar to Thor than Loki's. He had held them, whirling in circles and shrieking with laughter as babes, and bandaged them when they were both bloodied in battle, and taught them to do a great many things ranging from giving a woman pleasure to causing a man pain. And so now, as those slender fingers he knew so well explored him, learned him intimately, sought the entrance to his body (previously untouched but for the tongues of handmaidens and one daring squire), Thor kept still in the gentle rain and allowed the joining moment to come.

It burned when Loki took him. It burned like a driving fire that pressed deeper, further, more insistently than he wanted it to, tendrils of pain licking through low in his belly where nothing and no one had ever touched him before. He became acutely aware, in that very instant, just what he had invited Loki to do to him. For years, since Thor's early adolescence and first awakenings as a sexual being, since learning for the first time that a part of them could ever, in the right moment, become a part of someone else, they had shared murmurings and temptations of doing this deliciously forbidden thing together. But always teasing and tormenting of Thor inside of Loki's body, whisperings of what it might be like for Thor to be in Loki's mouth, atop him, ridden by him, wearing his slender legs for a necklace. Never any intimation or imaginings of a moment such as this. He was completely unprepared for the idea and reality of doing this, taking this.

A foreign sound left Thor's throat when Loki's hips pressed firm to the round of his buttocks, and Thor sensed hesitation in his brother, killer, lover when smaller fingers found and tangled with his. Loki, it seemed, was unprepared for the doing of this, too. But Thor wanted him to have it. Perhaps it could mend them both.

"Go on," he managed, squeezing those hands. The reassuring weight of Loki's forehead came to his own temple, jets of warm breath beating down his jawline, and Loki stroked the sides of Thor's hands with his thumbs. The touch was barely there, almost negligible in its simplicity as compared with where and how else they were touching, but its meaning was clear. And in it, Thor found words spoken by Loki not so very long ago, words he still believed to be true in spite of all.

"_Never doubt that I love you."_

It was a soothing act of such crushing tenderness in this moment of physical surrender and discomfort that Thor's chest ached and tears came. And then Loki began to move, and there was no tenderness in that at all.

It stole his breath at first, took his lax body by surprise, and chased a hoarse cry from his lips, the ferocity of the first proper thrust shoving him forward on their bed. But Thor was ready for the second, arching into the onslaught invitingly once he'd learned the way of it. He knew the dance and knew it well; it was the spending of harboured fury, the release of festering frustration, a physical manifestation of emotional torment, and Loki was using Thor's body exactly as Thor had hoped he might. The rhythmic collision of their damp flesh was louder than the drumming rainfall, the cave's acoustics sending their escaped groans and gasps back to them, distorted and amplified. When Thor moved to pull his hand free of Loki's grip, wanting to stroke out his own release, he was denied the privilege; Loki held it fast and drilled harder, thrusts shortening and quickening until Thor's hips ached and Loki fell slack atop him at last to tremble through his climax.

Feeling raw and open, Thor resisted nothing as Loki knelt beside him after and rolled him onto his back. He swallowed hard past the stricture in his throat and struggled to see his lover in the dark, through the rain, through the veil of his tears. He was shaking and still hard, and though his hands had now been freed, he made no attempt to use them without permission. After a pregnant silence that yawned on for ages, Loki bent to kiss him, their mouths meeting with an almost painful softness.

He cradled Loki's wet cheek against his palm while the tentative tugging of Loki's hand gave a merciful end to his own wanting, bringing him off gently while they tasted one another's tongues and wept, each for his own wrongdoings.

"_Come in beneath my blankets, Loki," said Thor, the raven-haired boy standing at his bedside not so long past toddlerhood, just barely a boy and into school._

"_Can I stay all night with you?" Loki reached for his older brother's hand when it was offered, scrambling up and onto a bed much bigger than his own. _

"_Of course." Thor smiled and drew back his blanket, welcoming the smaller body against his, both clad in soft sleeping clothes. Loki lay perfectly against his chest and beneath his arm, the two fitting as snugly as jigsaw puzzle pieces, as though one had been created for the sole purpose of tucking in against the other. "What's the matter?"_

"_I thought I heard something in my room," Loki confessed, as Thor lifted a storybook he'd been reading._

"_What sort of something?"_

_Loki's delicate fingers were tracing the scrollwork of Nordic embroidery on the chest of Thor's red pyjamas as he gave his answer: "Maybe a monster. Maybe a Frost Giant."_

"_There are no Frost Giants in Asgard."_

"_Ever?" Loki looked doubtful._

"_Never." Thor kissed his forehead, the way he'd seen their mother do when one of them was upset. "Go to sleep. Nothing will take you while I'm near." Brow smooth at last, Loki's thumb found its place in his mouth. There were no more words that needed speaking._

He drifted away with his ear over the steady thump of Thor's heart.

He came to life slowly and painfully, as on a morning that follows a night of shameless debauchery. The blackness was absolute, and he could feel the after-effects of their coupling through intimate parts of himself and the backs of his thighs. It brought him a drowsy smile and a ticklish thrill in his gut, and he lay still in the lazy limbo between waking and sleeping for another long moment, drawing unhurried lungfuls of the scent of Loki's sweat and sex on his skin, tasting the other man's mouth on his own.

Minutes passed before he was awake enough to realise that Loki's body was no longer tucked against his own. 

_'At the sea?'_ Thor wondered, stirring at long last, stretching his legs. But he couldn't move those legs independently; they were bound at the knees and ankles. A shard of panic pierced him, and he opened his eyes, wanting to investigate the cause for the situation. Opening his eyes, though, did nothing for him. The world was just as black with them open as it had been with them closed, and the suction of a sharp intake of breath pulled a thick black fabric up to his nose and mouth. He was wearing a hood, or perhaps wrapped entirely in some dark material. His first impulse was to reach for the fabric, pull it away from his face, but his wrists were bound behind his back.

His pulse accelerated, throbbing helter-skelter at the base of his throat, chest heaving as he fought to draw a clean breath. What he got was his own recycled air, not much fresh making it through the thick cloak containing him.

"Loki!" He shouted the other man's name, but the organic echo of the cave didn't bring it back to him. Instead, there was a metallic resonance. He could not hear the wind. He could not hear the waves. Loki did not answer. Trembling, fighting for balance, Thor managed to get his feet under himself and rose to unsteady legs, and fear rose in his throat like a sickness.

"_I'm painfully bored." Thor scrubbed at his face with both hands, sitting on the edge of his brother's bed in the blinding midday light. His golden body was mountainously muscular, but he was still boy enough to be punished by Odin for his transgressions; a week grounded to a single wing, banned from the outdoors and adventuring. _

"_You ought to behave, then." Loki cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest, standing before Thor and looking down on him._

"_That's only slightly less boring than grounding." Taking Loki's hips into his hands, he tugged him near and rolled his forehead against the other boy's sternum, fractious as a caged animal. "Find me something to do."_

_Loki reached for a clean, folded bed sheet and shook it open, then stepped back out of his brother's grip, draping it over Thor and giving him the appearance of a bivouac tent. "There."_

"_There, what? I can't see!"_

"_Of course you can't. Try to find me" Loki laughed, the sound of it silvery, its mirth contagious. Thor grinned, willing enough to play along. Drowning in the sheet, he rose from the bed with his hands out in front of himself, wanting to keep himself from colliding with anything face-first._

"_Where are you?" he laughed._

"_Here." Thor followed the sound of his younger brother's voice, out of his chambers and into the grand hallway. The sunlight filtered through the stained glass in a muted golden glow. Stumbling sightlessly, picking up speed, he drifted down the corridor in the direction of Loki's laughter. At the end of the great hall was a staircase, and when Thor drew perilously near to it, Loki saved him from catastrophe by throwing skinny arms about his middle and wrestling him to the ground. Through the cool, clean fabric, Loki found the warmth of his mouth and kissed him._

Tied the way he was, walking was not a possibility. Beneath his feet was steel, cold and unforgiving. He made the realization that he had been removed entirely from the cave just a breath before sustaining a decimating blow to the centre of his forehead and crumpling bonelessly to a heap on the ground.


End file.
